Sometime in the last century, my father’s two brothers came to Chestertown for a visit. This was something of an occasion; Uncle Sam lived in upstate New York, so his visits weren’t frequent. Uncle Lew, on the other hand, lived just across the Bay – so it was fairly easy for him to come over the bridge for the get-together.

My dad decided to treat his brothers to a fishing trip out of Rock Hall. So he called up a charter boat captain and made the arrangements. Little did he suspect what the Bay had in store for them.

On the appointed day, the three brothers got up early and drove to Rock Hall. In a little cafe near the docks, they found their captain – Naudain Francis, if memory serves – sitting at a table with several other watermen, finishing breakfast. Uncle Sam recalled, telling the story years later, that the captain at first seemed pleased to see my dad, but when he got a closer look at Uncle Sam, his expression changed. At first, Sam thought nothing of it. They followed the captain to his boat, and got ready to go out on the Bay.

Except the boat’s motor wouldn’t start. Captain Francis tried one thing after another, but it was a good hour before he got it going, and by then all the other boats had a head start on them. Still, they drove down the Bay to where the other boats were gathered, and they finally threw their lines over. And got not even a nibble. After a while, the captain moved the boat to another location – again, with other boats fishing successfully. Same result – not a single bite.

At this point, my dad turned to the captain and asked the awkward question. “How come everybody else is catching fish and we aren’t?” He undoubtedly expected some kind of story about bad bait or the like. He certainly didn’t expect the captain to point to Uncle Sam and say, “Mr. Pete, it’s them daggone corduroy pants. My pop always told me it was bad luck to wear ‘em on a boat, and now I know he was right.”

None of the three passengers had ever heard such a story, but it was clear that they were having unusually bad luck. To his credit, Uncle Sam wasn’t about to let a pair of pants ruin his fishing trip. “If that’s all the problem, why don’t I just take them off?” he said. Which he did – and to combat the jinx even more effectively, he tied them to a length of fishing line and threw them overboard. “Now let’s see if we can catch some rockfish,” he said.

Believe it or not, their luck changed immediately. Before long, the fish were practically jumping into the boat. By the time they turned back to Rock Hall, the three brothers were more than satisfied with their day of fishing and looking forward to a banquet with their fresh catch as the main course.

But there was one more wrinkle yet to come. Realizing he was going to need a little time for his pants to dry out before he put them back on, Uncle Sam went over to the side to pull up the line he’d attached them to. Whether it was the Bay exacting its price for lifting the curse, or some more mundane reason, the line was broken. The pants were gone!

As you may imagine, they had a hilarious trip back from Rock Hall, and yes, a rather humiliating reception in Chestertown, trying to explain the missing pants to their wives. But they had a good catch of fish – and a true fish story that has entertained family and friends for decades. And now you.